


When the Day Is Done and the Sun Goes Down

by tiptoe39



Series: Destiel Smut Brigade Summer Challenge Fic Dump [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Beach Sex, Bonfires, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:46:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39/pseuds/tiptoe39
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sun sets at the end of a long vacation, and Dean and Cas prepare to say goodbye to paradise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Day Is Done and the Sun Goes Down

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you kindly to profoundfangirl for the beta.

It's twilight now, and the clear-water blue of the sky has gone smoky and dark. Dean sits at the water's edge, squatting in the sand and watching the waves come up to dance with his toes before receding shyly. The quiet is overwhelming, and he thinks he can even hear his own heartbeat. How long has it been since he had space like this, air to breathe, room to think? He casts baleful eyes at the lowering sun. The day is ending all too quickly.

Behind him, up on the beach, Castiel is arranging the wood and newspaper they've cobbled together for the bonfire. Dean should be helping, was helping up until a moment ago, but something brought him down here to the shoreline. He's grasping at the last seconds of the day. Once it ends, it'll be beautiful night, and the bonfire will blaze bright, but after that comes the end of a vacation that feels like the first he's ever taken in his life. Maybe it is. Maybe it's the last, too. All he knows is, for a week he and Cas have been together on this island, pretending as though the rest of the world didn't exist, and tomorrow it all comes back again with a vengeance. He's not ready to let go. How can you ever be?

He can see the mainland from here, and the coastline is starting to line up with a hundred tiny lights, streetlamps a twinkling marquee along the boardwalk. The mainland is so busy, and though the gleaming lights appealed to him at first, it was Castiel who convinced him that their time would be better spent out here in the quieter space of the island. Castiel was right, as usual. Dean's liked the quiet more than he'd thought. There was a little grocery store in the tiny village -- barely more than a main street -- and they went there to grab staples, but otherwise hung out together in this rented cottage on the beach. Dean read three books. Castiel painted. They took long showers together and sat on the beach until they were too sun-bleached to think straight. At night, they drank beer and watched the stars. And, of course, they made love -- not constantly, not even every day, but enough that the warm haze of romance hangs over them even now, as they're preparing to say goodbye. That, at least, will continue even after they're far away from here. 

The tide washes in and recedes, and Castiel's behind him -- suddenly and quietly enough that Dean thinks he has flown the few feet between them and alit on the packed, wet sand. "It's ready," he says. 

Dean isn't ready for it to be ready. "It's not dark enough yet."

"Then we can wait." Castiel lowers his hands onto Dean's shoulders and kneads. The gentle pressure makes Dean groan. "I just wanted you to know."

Dean looks over his shoulder to take a look at the setup. A simple circle of wood, with logs piled in the center and newspaper crumpled up around it to help the flames catch. It'll be a handsome bonfire once it's lit. "Looks good, Cas," he says, and reaches out a hand. Castiel grabs it and helps him to his feet; Dean bends over to brush the sand off his knees. "Guess we should think about eating something while we wait for it to get dark." 

They've made potato salad and sandwiches for beach eating, and their small cooler holds the food, as well as a handful of beers. They eat, watching the water and the lights on the horizon. Castiel gets a bit of potato salad on his cheek. Dean leans over and rubs it off with his thumb. In answer, Castiel grins at him and purses his lips around that errant thumb, sucking the food off. Dean has an image that makes him shift on the blanket. Castiel's deviously, subtly sexual sometimes. It's one of Dean's favorite things he's discovered about Castiel since they've been together. There are plenty of others, though.

Like the way Castiel's eyes light up when Dean does something nice for him. Like the utterly Caslike but still romantic way he theorizes about love and commitment. Like the expressions that flit across his face when he rocks into Dean, agony and bliss and concentration. Like the way his cock feels in Dean's hand, heavy and and stone-hard. So many little things, so much to discover and then to savor.

And so much he's been able to enjoy, without interruption, over this past week. Dean's a worker by nature. He finds his bliss when he's on a case, showing fake FBI badges and batting theories back and forth with Sam in seedy motel rooms. So he had to be convinced a vacation was a good idea. What a good idea it's been, though, and how desperately he doesn't want it to end. And the reason for that is sitting next to him, finishing up the potato salad, looking utterly comfortable in his own skin. Castiel seems to have been born to vacation. Earlier today, he was the one who was whining about leaving. "Surely the world could handle a few more days without you there saving it," he wheedled, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and trying to entice him with deep kisses to his neck. Dean had never wanted to be convinced so badly.

But time passes, and reality beckons. And now the sun has shut her eye along the horizon, leaving deep blue night behind. It's time.

Dean kneels by the fire, long matchbox in one hand, single match in the other. He draws it sharp and fast against the striking surface until it ignites, a lone candle in the dark. The night holds its breath as he tosses it in among the newspapers, and for an instant it looks like it will only yield a few embers. But the paper catches, wrinkling and softening beneath the flame's touch, and slowly the fire spreads to the rest of the kindling, then to the big logs that lie across the rest of the pile like a skeleton. Dean sits back and inhales the smell of burning wood, watches the slow trail of gray smoke upward in a thread spiraling toward the sky.

Castiel's hand touches his shoulder, pulls him back onto the blanket. Dean settles there, leaning into the warmth of that palm. "'S nice," he says, casting his gaze Castiel's way.

The profile he sees, lit by firelight, is like the face of a mountain. Hard, dramatic, all dark patches of shadow and red-tinted angles. The bonfire ripples in miniature inside the pupils of Castiel's eyes. Castiel nods, and the shadows move along his face. It's hypnotizing. Dean reaches out, draws one hand along the line of his jaw, almost without knowing what he's doing. Castiel's face just begs to be touched.

"Dean," Castiel says, and the crackling of the fire seems to fade away.

Dean swallows. "Yeah?"

A small smile touches Castiel's lips. His eyelids lower. "I will miss this," he says with a bit of a sigh. 

The piece of Dean that can't stand seeing Castiel in any pain leaps into action. "Yeah, well, it's not over yet."

"No," muses Castiel. "It's not. And yet I'm sad."

Dean searches for words. "Well, don't be," he says. "You're still here and I'm still here. That's something." The words sound half-sure and hollow to him. "Right?"

Castiel meets his gaze. "That's everything," he says. The light in his eyes isn't just reflected flame from the bonfire.

Dean kisses him then, because you don't _not_ kiss a guy who's looking at you like that. When their lips meet, a spark jumps deep in his belly. He doesn't expect it, didn't intend to start something. But in another minute he's grabbing Castiel by the arms, pulling him in, opening his mouth to kiss deeper. Castiel makes a soft sound against his mouth and tangles long-fingered hands in his hair. The wet press of his tongue against Dean's sends that spark dancing, catching flame everywhere inside. 

He's losing his balance, dizzy with the scent of Cas and sea air and wood smoke. Castiel's weight eases him backward onto the blanket, the crown of his head brushing the sand. "God," Dean murmurs, and "Cas." So much man on top of him, so solid and eager. Castiel's mouth falls to his neck, sucking hotly, and Dean hears himself hiss. 

This never fails to amaze him, how aggressive Cas gets when he wants Dean. Girls used to play coy, used to climb onto him and then demand his touch, but Castiel's different. Castiel wants to touch _him_. Sometimes he delays his own pleasure for a solid hour and just lets his hands and lips roam over every inch of Dean's skin. It's fulfillment like Dean couldn't have imagined before. Letting himself be touched, be loved, without having to do anything but just _be._

And that's all he's had to do this week, just be. In a way, that's all he's ever had to do for Cas. Just being Dean is enough. 

It's not quite chilly in the air, but when Castiel drags off Dean's shirt, his nipples peak from the kiss of the soft breeze. Castiel seizes one between his teeth and tugs, and Dean shouts, his hips slamming upward to find Castiel's. He grabs Castiel's ass and drags him upward so they slot together, Castiel's erection straining against Dean's thigh. Dean finds answering friction, nudging his cock up against Castiel's hipbone, and he groans. A moment later, they're even, hardness against hardness, and Dean hooks his feet around Castiel's ankles and arches as heat courses through him.

The fire's warmth touches their bodies, guiding them as they gasp and strain together, and soon it's too hot for any clothes at all. Castiel rolls off of Dean long enough to pull his shirt over his head, and Dean struggles hurriedly out of his shorts and boxers. "We could get arrested for this," he says with a low chuckle. 

"I'm willing to risk it," Castiel says, leaning over to catch Dean's lips in a kiss full of want and possession. Dean groans again. Castiel is so, so good at dragging sounds out of him. They're naked together on the blanket now, and one false move will leave them covered in sand and scrambling inside for the shower, but that's also a risk Dean's willing to take. Their bodies need to be together. Now.

And Dean thought it was hot before -- the crash of Castiel's body against him, no clothes to separate them, with the bonfire still blazing beside them, nearly makes him combust. "Cas, _Jesus,_ " he swears, and sucks hard on Castiel's lower lip. Why, oh God _why_ , didn't he bring any fucking lube down to the beach tonight? He wants to fuck Cas, hell, or _be_ fucked, he doesn't even care, he just wants to be as close as he can be, wedged between Cas and the fire and the night, another ember ready to burn up. 

He could ask Cas to zap it down here. Angel powers and all that. But they're so comfortably normal right now. Everything is perfect in its imperfection, in its humanness. Two bodies in a precarious position, one second and one thing goes wrong and they're sandy or burning or loaded into a police car, and that's part of why Dean's grabbing at him so hard. "Cas," he gasps as Castiel mouths along his jaw, rutting into him with a grunt at every thrust. "Cas, we don't have..."

"I have an idea," Castiel mumbles into his ear. And then, no, he's pulling away, _stop,_ come back. Dean's empty and needy and too freaking cold without Cas on top of him. He mumbles Castiel's name, reaches out for him, but Castiel's slippery, moving around on the blanket, no, _turning_ around and what the hell...

oh. Oh. Okay, that works.

Castiel's mouth engulfs his cock with one wet slide, and Dean throws his head back and lets out a long shout. Castiel's thighs now straddle his head, and Dean grabs them with both hands, using them as an anchor as he starts to thrust into Castiel's mouth. He knows what he needs to do, what the position of their bodies demands. But just for a moment, he lets himself take without giving.

Castiel doesn't pull off or complain; he just sucks harder, his tongue doing wicked things as a counterpoint to the sensual steady slide of his lips. He wraps a hand around the base of Dean's cock, and with hand and mouth it's enveloping warmth everywhere. Dean groans and rakes his nails along Castiel's thigh. Hunger builds inside him and he parts his lips. Yeah. Now he's ready.

He reaches up with one hand and guides Castiel's cock down to his mouth. The vibrations from Castiel's moan rumble through his hips. Suddenly greedy, Dean grabs Castiel's ass and pulls him down, taking him in fully, bringing another deliciously vibrating moan. They're locked around each other, an incredible loop of giving and receiving, heat feeding heat just like the enveloping fire beside them. 

If Dean thinks for a moment, he'll realize his shoulders ache and Castiel is deep enough in to gag him, but he's not thinking. He's loving, as hard as he knows how, and all he wants is to keep bringing those sucks and moans that are consuming him. His fingers wander on the flesh of Castiel's ass, sliding into the cleft, and when he dots a fingerpad against the hard skin at the center, Castiel makes a noise like an engine revving and throbs dangerously in Dean's mouth. It's fucking glorious, so Dean circles his hole with one finger, dips into the center just deep enough to tease. Castiel's whole body shakes with the penetration. Dean wraps his other hand around Castiel's waist, holds him steady. Cas makes desperate little whimpering noises around Dean's cock.

Above him, the night is black enough that a few bright stars cut through the light pollution of the bonfire and wink at him. Dean's seeing stars that aren't in the sky, too; he thrusts his hips up deeper, driving his cock again and again into the incessant welcoming warmth of Castiel's mouth. He's close, shuddering with the need for release, but he wants to feel Cas get there too, wants to swallow him down until Cas is shaking and collapsing on top of him. Castiel isn't making it easy to hold back. He's decided turnabout is fair play and is teasing Dean's hole too, and lightning zaps of sensation are shocking Dean, making him jump. Not to be outdone, Dean worms his finger a little deeper in.

It's the right move. Cas tries to say something around Dean's dick, and it comes out as a muffled, open, wet sound. His hips motor hard down onto Dean's face. The fire pops, and Castiel's dick stiffens and fattens between Dean's lips. His hips still. In another moment, salt and water flood Dean's mouth. He swallows hard, then again as another burst of come fills him up again. Growling, Dean sucks him dry, then lets go and just holds Cas fast as the shudders die down.

Mouth free, he gasps in the night air and turns his head to stare at the fire. Everything is liquid heat now, both sight and sensation, and Dean grabs Castiel's thighs again to hold on fast. "Cas," he manages to get out between ragged breaths. "God, Cas, you're fucking killing me." All he gets in return is another firm stroke of Castiel's hand, another wicked trick of his tongue. Castiel pulls back and sucks at the head of his cock, then engulfs him again, and Dean fucks his mouth with abandon. He wants to come, but he doesn't want this to end, this incredible moment where everything is dark and fire-hot. If only he could last forever, if only he had more control...

But he doesn't, and the sensation shoots over him like high tide, an intense swell that breaks far too soon. He shouts, swears, comes apart, nails driving hard into Castiel's thighs as his rhythm stutters into uncontrollable shakes. " _Fuck,_ Cas, _Cas,_ " he hears himself say in a voice that frays and breaks on the edges. And all around him, through it all, the incredible suction of Castiel's mouth, unrelenting until the very last second, until Dean's muscles all go slack and he lies limp on the blanket, watching the gray smoke from the fire spiral into the dark sky.

Castiel lets him go slowly, inch by inch, and then climbs over him again to settle into a soft embrace. Dean tilts his head to find Castiel's lips, and they kiss. Castiel tastes salty and musky. Scents of Dean and sex join sea air and wood smoke, and Dean groans with the languid pleasure of it. "Wow," he mutters, licking at Castiel's ear before letting his head settle down onto the blanket again.

"Yes." Castiel nods against his shoulder. "Wow."

"And that was just the start of the night," Dean says with a chuckle. "Wonder what we'll get up to later."

Castiel nuzzles at his neck. "Thank you," he says.

"For what?"

"For this not being the end."

"Well." Dean eases an arm around Castiel, pulls him in a little tighter. "It's the beginning of the end. But only the beginning."

And even the end isn't really the end, Dean thinks. It's not like he and Cas are going their separate ways; they're just going back to reality. Which isn't that bad. Even the bad parts aren't so bad, not when he knows he's got a brother at his side and an angel waiting in the wings. Still, before the world starts throwing crap at him again, he's determined to enjoy every second.

He gazes past Castiel at the fire. It's still going strong. And if it can blaze through the night, so can he. These seconds are too precious to waste.


End file.
